


Something so precious about this

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Series: Command me to be well [3]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Catholic Character, Christian Existentialism vs Nihilism, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex, Philosophy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Sex, The Captain finds them a Bigger Bed, an ass who knows he's an ass, cavity-inducing fluff, giddy up cowboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: Babe, there’s something lonesome about youSomething so wholesome about youGet closer to meAftermath of Scylla. Max and Asher’s religious discussions have been replaced by philosophy. But their methods are still the same.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: Command me to be well [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586686
Kudos: 36





	Something so precious about this

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this at work. I am _crimson._
> 
> Also forgive me, I am neither philosopher nor believer. I have tried my best to butcher these concepts to make them work for me.

Before meeting the hermit, Max imagined what might happen if he had found the answers to all the questions he was asking. He thought that perhaps he would be happy, comfortable, accepting of everything he had been given. He might finally, finally find peace. Perhaps he might tell everyone, spread the news to make others happier. Perhaps he would be ostracized. Perhaps he would be heard. Perhaps he would be left alone.

Well, not entirely alone. Whatever image of the future Max had envisioned, it always included Asher next to him. The man was insistent on that.

Now, though. Now that Max’s mind had been opened, that he realized the folly of his seeking out a Plan that didn’t exist…

Well, his world definitely still includes Asher.

Asher who had stood by him, taken the drugs alongside him, grounded him in his quest to seek out the truth. Asher who had not quite had the same awakening (and had definitely ended up emptying his guts in the corner of the room), but who smiled and welcomed him back onto the ship. Who listened to every word with care and respect, who helped find homes for the paper books that Max didn’t want or need anymore, who helped guide Max's thoughts, who kept finding ways for Max to experience rather than simply interpret.

Who found a proper bed that wasn’t a bunk with enough space for two, and made sure that he got a good night’s sleep in it. Even when it was practically extortion.

The faint Monarch sunlight trickles in through a crack in the false windows. Max shifts as he wakes, the blankets moving with him, and he opens his eyes to look at Asher’s chest. Another point in Asher's favour: he had never begrudged him for wanting to be the little spoon. Never. No comments about how tough men should be the big spoon, no jokes. He’d simply lifted an arm and made a place for him against his side (as with everything Asher did, he always made a place for Max). It was the perfect spot. Max’s ear rests close to Asher’s heart, hearing the steady soothing beat, and his breath rustles Asher’s chest hair. He can hear the man snoring above him and feel the weight of Asher’s arm around his side, keeping him tucked close. In a colony full of chaos, it is possibly the safest place he can possibly be.

This…is living. These are the moments that Max had pushed to the side as unimportant in the search for the Plan.

What an idiot he’d been. Even if it meant he hadn’t been pulled away before meeting Asher, there was so much he had missed. It was time to make up for it.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Max tilts his head up to look at the sleepy voice meeting him. Asher is half awake and looking at him, his chin is touching his chest in a slightly unflattering angle, making a double chin, but the affection in his eyes makes Max smile.

“How loud am I supposed to think?” Max teases back gently.

“It’s morning and we have a few more hours before we have to get up,” Asher says softly. “You should be resting and not thinking.”

Max makes sure to arch the eyebrow pressed against Asher’s skin so the man can feel it. “You know I can’t stop thinking.”

Asher puts on an exasperated sigh, but there is not an ounce of bite in it. “Alright. What are you thinking about?”

His fingers slide up his side and brush into Max’s hair, smoothing along the shaved edges. It is a slow steady stroke that makes Max’s eyes close for a moment, losing his train of thought before he latches onto it again. “That I missed out on too much focusing on the Plan, tripe that it is. I am just...lucky.”

Asher hums softly, his fingers curling around a longer strand of Max’s hair. “Maybe you missed out on a bit, but you’ve got time now. Gotta figure out what you enjoy, what you want to leave behind.”

“Ah, legacies,” Max replies, shaking his head slightly. “Leaving something good behind, you mean, but that idea isn’t exactly clearcut. The idea of good and bad changes from person to person, to the point where what one would consider good, another might not.”

“There are some constants, Max. Try to make people’s lives better. Thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not kill, and so on.”

“How much do you steal, Asher?”

“Besides the point, Max.”

“Your faith constructed the morals you stand by, not a constant. They are not the same as what the philosophists might say.”

“Well, if my self is a story, then I want to tell a good one. One that people won’t scorn in their recollection of me.”

“And does that make you happy?”

“Yes, it does.”

Max shrugs.

“Max, life is absurd, but we have to live it. We can’t blame God or the Architect for the terrible things that people do – we have to look to ourselves to make sure it happens rarely.”

Max snorts. “Look at you thinking so hard in the morning."

“I just wanted to sleep and maybe fuck you, but you’re the one who wants to talk philosophy.”

Ah, this is something that still carries on. Max's anger has faded, at least somewhat, but he is still ready to fight and Asher knows how to push his buttons. They may have turned from religion to philosophy, but they can still argue and it still has an effect on them. Max shifts, curling closer so Asher can feel his body slowly waking up to the idea. “And you think grounding yourself in religious morals a better alterative to brave the world?” He presses.

“It’s worth a shot. You thought science would.” Asher replies. “Believing that scientific rationality will make us happier is itself irrational: why assume that grasping the rational truth of a situation will improve your life?”

That is a good point. Max makes a note of it to write down later.

“Besides, if we’re stories, then we need a framework to tell it and faith is as good of one as any. If we let it guide without constraining us, then we’re solid," Asher smiles.

"And what if you decide that faith isn't the route for you?"

"Then you find faith in something else. That people are inherently good, that the company comes first. There's lots of ways to place your faith."

They will have to agree to disagree on that for now. "So, in speaking of legacies...what do you want to leave behind? The traditional legacy would be children, but I don't believe that's in the cards for us."

Us. What a pleasant thing to consider. Asher's fingers still brush Max's hair, but it's starting to drag down to his neck, smoothing over warm skin, tracing his spine. Max shivers, growing harder, and even if he isn't looking, Max can see Asher smiling. "No, not unless there are any orphaned children to adopt. But I'd like to change some lives for the better. Perhaps people should struggle in order to gain strength, but that shouldn't mean suffering."

"No suffering? And here I thought you were a good Christian," Max teases.

"Sometimes suffering for the sake of suffering isn't the right path," Asher shifts his hands, pressing on Max's side invitingly, and Max moves with the touch, slowly climbing on top of Asher's warm body. "I'm more than willing to be happy instead."

"And are you?" Max asks softly.

Asher looks at him with so much love and affection that Max feels flayed bare. "I am."

There is nothing else to say. No debate, no argument. There is something magic about this, perfect and precious. Asher leans up to kiss him, hands sliding down to Max's hips, and their kiss is slow and sweet. Max leans on his elbows to support himself, and their hips slowly roll against each other. Asher is as hard as he is, and the drag makes them both sigh. They kiss just a little harder, not rushing, just savouring the moment and letting it build until they can barely stand it.

The lube is easily within reach, and as much as Max does love it when Asher presents to him so Max can fuck him hard and dirty...it's nice to get to experience. Gun callused fingers slide between Max's legs, working him open with ease, and Max lets out a slow moan. No one can hear him - no one will care other than Asher, who loves every sound he can drag out of Max. All the while, they kiss. Asher leaves marks on Max's neck and collarbones, a tangible sign that Asher enjoys every moment of being with him, and when their mouths meet again, Max proceeds to show him how much he loves the man. How much he loves every experience they have together. When Asher has two fingers in, Max takes a moment to sit up and ride them, groaning at the stretch and pressure.

Asher crooks them on Max's next downward press, angling for the right spot, and the groan Max lets out is outright filthy. It doesn't sound quite like a word, but it feels like a _YES_ as pleasure sparks through him. 

Asher moans in response, and while they don't speed up, there is a little more haste. Another finger is worked in until they deem Max appropriately stretched out (and both of them are inches away from coming, sex is still something so visceral and pwoerful for them, each time is a wonder where they can barely contain themselves). Asher slowly withdraws them with a wanton desperate sound from Max, and quickly slicks himself up. They shift position to get more comfortable, Max bracing himself on Asher's chest, Asher holding Max's hip with one hand while lining up with the other. Their eyes meet as Max slowly presses down, taking Asher's cock in, and the eye contact doesn't break. Not until Max takes inch after inch until he is as flush to Asher's hips as he can be. 

A hand wraps around Max's cock, stroking him slowly, while the other slides up Max's chest to pinch a nipple. Max's eyes close and his head falls back. This. This is what he missed all those years. The world has shrunk down to just this bed, to Max feeling full and complete for the first time in ages with Asher's cock buried deep inside him, Asher's hands on him, the weight of Asher's eyes on him, the pleasure building in Max's veins, the warmth in Max's heart. There is no lens to interpret. This is pure, unadulterated life.

Asher's hands slide down to Max's hips, gripping him. "How?" Asher breaks the silence, his words tight with desire.

Right now, Max just wants to hand off the reins. He lifts his hips slowly, groaning with the movement, and holds himself in place. "Please."

Asher adjusts his feet, bracing himself on the bed, and lets his hips rock up with a thrust. At the apex, Max lets out a desperate groan, hands falling back to brace themselves on Asher's thighs. And then Asher does it again. And again. There is no rush, no desperate race to their peaks, just a steady movement that nearly breaks Max every time. He moves a little, a little more desperate to seek out pleasure, and Asher lets out a cry of relief. Their pace increases a little, still comfortable in their rhythm, and Max loses all track of time. He just groans louder when Asher hits his prostate, nails digging into Asher's thighs, and lets out a biting curse when Asher changes the pace, trying to angle deeper.

" _Please!"_

Max doesn't know who says that - the voice feels out of place, not recognizable - but they both get the message. Asher slows so Max can move faster, riding Asher's cock with everything he's got, but his hand keeps working on Max's dick. The pace is fast, near painful, but they know each other well. They know exactly how to move, how to touch to make the other come apart, and before long, Max is shattering apart around Asher's cock. He comes across Asher's chest, and with a moan of Max's name, Asher follows him. They ride the last aftershocks together, stroking and squeezing, until there's nothing left to give. Max leans forward, shaking, and Asher holds him up with equally wobbly arms. They wipe each other off with the sheet, and Max slowly moves off to curl next to Asher again, right in that perfect spot.

This. This is the legacy Max will leave. That he loves someone and that they love him.

That's more than enough.


End file.
